


your prayers keep us up at night

by kuro49



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Bottom Jason Todd, Flashpoint (DCU), M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, jaydick_flashfic: atonement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 18:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17883344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: This is neither Father Todd's first nor last miracle. Only this time,  he has a witness.





	your prayers keep us up at night

**Author's Note:**

> this is just porn, any catholic themes are used fast and loose. set in the flashpoint universe where jason is father todd but dick is not doctor fate. written for the prompt: atonement.
> 
> ty to winnie and Leap of Faith on the jaydick discord for helping me out on the logistics of confessional sex bc i am not a church goer and i want to make sure this reads authentic for those who do.

 

He is down on his knees with a prayer upon the tip of his tongue.

“Hello, Father.”

The voice that resounds in the empty church echoes in all its warmth, congealing like honey and crawling sticky across his skin.

Perhaps this is extraordinary in its circumstances but it all falls within expectations when this isn't the first miracle he is witness to. Father Jason Todd blinks his eyes open at the voice, broadcasting his unease when his muscles go tense. Because expectation does not come close to equating acceptance even when he has uttered  _yes_  all his life. Glancing up from beneath his lashes, Jason hates the awe that inspires in him every chance he sees his patron saint in all his glory.

Leaving him speechless and breathless.

In life, his name was Richard Grayson.

In after-life, Jason learns he prefers Dick.

“On your knees and thinking only of me when you're calling me like this.” Dick says to him, eyes waning in the corners, his tongue slipping out to drag over his lips as he regards him from where he stands before him, one hand reaching out to graze along Jason's jaw. “You could make a stronger man weak, Father Todd.”

Jason has had this conversation a great deal of times, and each time it still manages to render him to a lost sheep for the slaughter.

Because the question is always the same even when the answer never really is. His pulse quickens, he swallows thickly, and in repetition, Jason asks on his knees and waiting. “Why me?”

Dick is benevolent, never taking what Jason isn’t willing to give. Even when he gives his all each and every time, self-preservation reduced to dust in firm devotion. Everything else is up for debate when Dick's eyes go narrow at the question he has answered a dozen times before.

“I didn’t choose you, Jason.” Dick tells him, some desire to make this clear for the man asking for his guidance, his mouth gleaming in the low hanging lights as he reaches out to pull Jason to his feet. His lips close enough for the man underneath the cassock to shudder at the anticipatory sensation of his breath dragging across his skin. “You chose  _me._ ”

Each time, he answers with the truth even if it fails to convince Jason. Not that it ever has the man resisting in any way that counts when he is already yielding beneath the first touch of Dick’s fingers curling around his wrist like a vice.

The grip burning, like a hot iron brand on flesh.

“Come now, Father.” He leads the way, and it is not the same place each time but the outcome always is. “You know what we must do.”

Jason follows him and it isn't blind faith, even if that would make this all the more easier.

 

The narrow space around them doesn't allow for anything more than just the movements Dick permits of them.

And Jason can only pull away by mere centimeters so many times before his chest is pressed up against the back wall of the confessional. His cassock hiked up and bunching at his waist, it is never cruel or demeaning when it always feels far too good for Jason to say he doesn't want it.

"Does it—" Jason bites off a keen, his fingers holding on to nothing when they scratch uselessly across the smooth wooden panels as he spreads his legs wider for Dick, one knee up on the seat that he has sat in a hundred times before, an invitation without the words but always loud enough to be heard. It is a stifling heat with Dick lined all along the length of his back when he tries again, tongue feeling too thick and heavy in his mouth. "Does it have to be here?"  


Dick never really prepares him, adding one finger then the next in slow increments, that isn't how this works. The intrusion is part of it, he is used to it, going pliant as the pressure builds low in his gut with every inch Dick presses inside of him until he is all the way there, hitting the deepest part of him.

"Mmm, we can always do it at the altar instead."

This is Dick understanding what he is asking for and giving him precisely that when he has him on his cock, the hot clutch of his body so tight around him.

Jason shakes his head, almost vehemently, and the small upturn of Dick's mouth is blatant as he starts to move.

“You always open up so nicely for me.”

Dick sighs, sweetly and punctuates that with a kiss to Jason's temple, slow and soft and barely there. His eyelashes cast shadows across his cheeks, thick and black and long sweeping against the glow of his skin.

Jason finds himself thinking he might be dreaming up all of this.

Except Dick’s teeth are sinking down on the nape of his neck, just above the line of where his clerical collar will cover. Again and again until Jason knows the sharp points of his canines and the shape of his bite as a permanent fixture imprinted on his skin. Eyes wide open and not a dream in sight. This is all real, and perhaps this might just be the most startling thing.

It is important Jason thinks, Dick’s answer from another time coming to mind:  _This is a church built in my name, Jason. You, by association, were made for me._

Jason breathes out easier on the sting, brings a hand up to brush his fingers across the back of his neck just as Dick pulls off, touches the slick wet skin and finds himself feeling a sensation of disappointment when they come away with just spit.

And not a single hint of blood.

 

Jason is going breathless, pink in the face.

The flush going down much lower when each deep thrust has Dick’s cock grinding against his prostate, knocking a litany of  _ah'_ s from between the grind of his teeth as he tries to hold firm. Not that he really gets a chance, not when there is no pause, not even when Dick pulls out completely.

His patron saint keeps him spread out with his hands, thumbs digging in against his rim. Holding him wide and open, rubbing the blunt head of his cock against his entrance to stop him from clenching down on that emptiness hollowed out inside of him to make room for just this.

“D-dick.”

It is part plead even if it sounds close enough to be considered a sob and there is nothing to it when he has given this up plenty of times. Rendered to what Dick would have of him, Jason swallows the saliva gathered in his mouth, tries not to be bothered by the precum dripping from the head of his cock, too close to coming but not quite daring to push for that.

Service doesn't start for another hour but this church is open nearly all hours of the day, candles burning at the altar with warmth. It is a tradition from before he ever made priesthood and even further before that, when he was the stray in question that came wandering in from the cold.

It is one he holds now.

But the lost stray to come wandering into his church at this particular moment feels a lot like divine punishment. 

Footsteps echoing down the aisle as he makes his way through the nave, closer and closer. Jason tries not to take God's name in vain but his faith is reduced down to just his patron saint.

“Come now, Jay.” Dick murmurs into his ear as he finally fucks into him again, pushes all the way in until Jason is once more filled to the hilt, his hand reaching around to wrap his fingers around Jason's cock for the first time since this started. "You  _know_  this."

Closer then closer, the man opens the door to the other side of the confessional, and Jason comes with a single touch, painting the back of the confessional in streaks of dripping white.

"Father?" The man asks as he takes a seat.

It has Jason hanging his head as he pants, lashes wet with what he didn’t realize was moisture from his eyes as he blinks away the force of his orgasm. Dick doesn't give him any time, he is tilting his chin up with a hand, turning him to him.

"Y- _yes_." Jason says, hoarse, and he isn't quite so sure what he is agreeing to.

And like something not entirely of this world, Dick follows easily, coming inside of Jason, leaving him hot and wet and with words murmured against the shell of his ear to echo inside of his soul.

“Absolve his sin, Jason Peter Todd. Just as I did with yours.”

Jason doesn’t dare to open his mouth, doesn’t know the noises that he is capable of making in the face of Dick's faith in him.

The man on the other side of the confessional parts his lips and starts.

 

**Author's Note:**

> there is probably something lowkey sinister about this arrangement but dick is something else altogether and jason has a masochistic streak ten miles long.


End file.
